


Dinner

by supersoakerx



Category: Paterson (2016)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:24:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22830181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersoakerx/pseuds/supersoakerx
Summary: Paterson comes home from work and you're cooking his favourite meal.
Relationships: Paterson (Paterson)/Reader, Paterson (Paterson)/You, Paterson/Reader, Paterson/You
Kudos: 26





	Dinner

You’ve been sprinkling his favourite spices into the pan when you hear his key turn in the lock. Glancing at the clock, you notice he’s home right on time, and it brings a smile to your face.

“Hi, honey,” he calls out to you in his deep voice. He sounds a little tired, you think, a little weary from his day. This meal will do him good. His footsteps don’t trek towards the couch, you can tell. It sounds like he’s coming towards the kitchen.

You set the stove to a low heat and call back, “Hey, baby, I’m maki-“

You cut off your words when you feel his arms wrap around your waist. You hum happily and turn your head to face him. “I’m making your favourite.” You smile and plant a small peck on his plush lips.

His voice is husky now, all trace of weariness gone. “Mmm, I thought I could smell you cooking something delicious in here.” He leans his nose to your hair tucked just behind your ear, and takes a deep breath in, breathing in the smell of your hair. You washed it last night, and he loves the way it smells the next day. So softly, he whispers, and you can feel his hot breath on your ear, “or maybe it was just you.” He kisses tiny pecks on the shell of your ear, trailing down to your lobe. His arms squeeze your waist for a moment, and then relax. One hand moves to grip your waist, and the other gently moves your hair off your shoulder, letting it fall down your back, out of his way. He settles both hands on your hips and works his mouth over your ear, neck and shoulder.

You sigh at the feel of his front pressed up against your back, his breath, his kisses. You lean your head to the side to give him better access to the sensitive skin he’s seeking, before saying, “My my, Mr Paterson, you think you can just waltz in here, coat and shoes still on, and after I’ve slaved over dinner for you,” a breathy sigh escapes you, “you think you can just come in here and ravage me, hm?”

At this he sucks hard at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, where he knows it makes you shiver. His hands glide up your torso to cup and palm your breasts, he feels your nipples harden beneath your shirt and the soft, thin, lacy material of your bra, and he groans. His lips are at your ear again when he speaks lowly, “Only if you’ll let me, honey,” he sucks on your ear lobe, voice dropping to a whisper “please, (Y/N), let me…”

You smile to yourself at his words, how needy he’s become, and so quickly. You reach up to run a hand through his hair, it feels so thick and soft, and you hold him against you. Your other hand grips his thigh, pulling him against you impossibly closer. He grinds his hips against your backside, his need evident.

“Let you what, Paterson, hm? What does my husband want to do to me?” your voice wavers as he palms your clothed breasts, tweaking your nipples.

Paterson huffs out a groan at your words. He’s straining against his pants to the point of pain, the many layers of clothes between you giving him no relief, and he’d give anything to feel you wrapped around him. One of his hands leaves your chest to pull at your skirt, tugging it high enough for him to get his fingers to the front of your panties. His index finger trails up and down your clothed slit, and he revels in the dampness he finds there, humming into your hair. He slips his finger inside your panties and rubs small, light, gentle circles against your clit.

"I want to get you wet. I want to make your little clit throb for me. I want to bend you over the counter where I eat breakfast every morning and watch my dick slide in and out of you.” A loud moan escapes you, and you cant your hips back and forth, grinding your ass on his cock and your clit against his finger. You loved when he got like this, filthy things spilling from his mouth.

Paterson hums, determined to keep going. “I want to make you come, baby, I want to make you to come and gush and squeeze my cock, I want to feel it. Will you let me do that for you? Will you let me feel you c-“

“Yes!” You cut him off, “Yes, Paterson, do it, now.”

A deep, guttural growl escapes him. The hand toying with your breast reaches in front of you and turns off the stove, then returns to your waist. He removes his hand from your panties and brings his finger up to his mouth, sucking on it to taste the slick that gathered there. “Mmm, bend over the counter for me, honey.”

You turn and step to the counter, bracing yourself on your forearms. You spread your ankles and stick your ass out, inviting him. Watching you manoeuvre into place, Paterson can’t help quickly unbuckling his belt, undoing his button and yanking down his zipper, gripping his cock and fishing it out of his trunks, as if you might disappear if he doesn’t get it out fast enough.

As soon as you’re steady, Paterson drops to his knees behind you and flips your skirt up over your hips. He grips and tugs at his cock as he plants a few hot, wet kisses over your ass cheeks, your sighs spurring him on. He tugs down your panties and you step a leg out of them, and they hit the floor with a small wet smack.

“I love how wet you get for me, honey.” He breathes. He wraps one hand around your thigh and splays his fingers wide. You hum happily, knowing how wet you are and how the smell and taste of you drives him crazy. Suddenly, he plunges two thick fingers into your wet, hot core and your hum turns into a long, high pitched whine. “I know, baby,” he coos, “you’re always so tight for me, you fit my cock inside you so well honey, but I’ve got to get you ready for me.” Paterson’s eyes were glued to your core, watching his fingers disappear inside you, and come out wet with your slick. His fingers were stretching you deliciously, and you wanted more of him, all of him. You felt his eyes on you and your clit throbbed.

“P-oh, Paterson, I swear to God,” you moan, your next words coming out in a slurred mess, “I’m ready, I’m ready, do it, I want your cock, baby, come on, give it to me.”

Your words, hearing his name, it all went straight to his cock and he was leaning over you in a heartbeat, his fingers still stroking inside you, his other hand reaching under your shirt to pull the thin lace of your bra down, exposing your breasts. You thought he might rip it, and your pussy clenched around his fingers at the thought. He huffed another groan and tweaked one of your nipples in response, gently pulling his fingers from you and slicking up his cock with your wetness. You moaned, needy, pushing your ass back towards him. “Fuck,” he spoke softly, drawing out the word, one hand holding your hip, steadying you, and the other gripping his cock and lining it up with your entrance, the head catching just inside you. He spoke low and deep into your ear, “Let me hear you, honey.”

With one sharp snap of his hips Paterson thrust his whole length all the way into you, buried to the hilt and panting into your hair. You had cried out, just like he wanted, and felt the wet walls of your pussy clamp down around the intrusion. This is what you wanted, the beautiful burning stretch of his cock inside you.

He gave you, and himself, only a moment to adjust.

Only a single moment before he dragged slowly, deliberately out along your walls, feeling your pussy trying to suck him back in. “Oh, honey, how are you this good,” he took a deep, shuddering breath, just the head of his cock remained inside you now, and he looked down at his length coated in your slick, “you’re so good for me every time.”

And immediately, he showed you just how good you were. Paterson set a quick pace, gripping your hips and pulling you back on to him at the same time as he thrust in to you. It was perfect, and you moaned and cried, his length and his speed making you shut your eyes tight and gush all over him. He felt everything, your wetness, your pussy clamping down around him. Looking down, seeing his cock disappearing in and out of you made him grunt, and seeing the light glinting off his cock where you covered him with your cum made him pulse and twitch inside you.

“Fuck yes, baby, j-just like that (Y/N), just l-like that.” Paterson panted.

You were getting so close, you knew it wouldn’t take much more to get you over the edge. Remembering what Paterson said earlier, you turned your head to the side to speak over your shoulder at him between long, drawn out moans, “You still want to make me come, baby? You know what to do,” you gasped, “you know what to fucking do and you better do it for me.”

Paterson moaned, really moaned deep and long for you. He snapped his hips into you harder, the sound of skin slapping ringing out throughout the kitchen. Shit, he loved when you talked to him like that, loved when you cursed and gasped and ordered him around.

He reached his hand down around the front of your thighs, between your legs. Two fingers sought out your clit, swollen and waiting for him. He rubbed his two fingers back and forth along your sensitive bud, one-two-three times and you were gone, spasming and convulsing and shaking, coming undone all over his cock as your orgasm ripped through you.

Paterson loved this, loved feeling you squeeze the life out of him, and he stuttered out, “Honey I’m, I can’t, please can I c-come insi- I’m-” 

His voice and breath and thrusts were ragged and erratic. You took no time to answer his unfinished plea, your voice high and breathy. “Come inside me, Pat, fill me up,” you keened, and he was done, your words sending him over the edge. He buried himself into you as far as he could go, groaning and grunting, his cock twitching as he released hot spurts of cum deep inside you.

Paterson held onto your hips, kept you pressed against him, making sure you weren’t going anywhere. You reached back to grip one of his hands in your own, your other hand supporting you on the counter. Panting, you came down from your high together, and when you both caught your breath, he slipped out of you and pulled you up against him. He sighed contentedly, breathing in the smell of your hair again.

You smiled, leaning back into his chest, sated and revelling in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. You were both half-dressed, and the kitchen stank of sex. 

“Dinner?” you asked.

He turned you around in his arms, smiled one of his big toothy, goofy grins, and kissed you on the tip of your nose. “Dinner,” he agreed.


End file.
